Junior Champion
by GiveMeEverything
Summary: For Brittana Week 2013: In which Brittany is a little too excited and Santana is a little two worried for their son's first bicycle competition


**So, I just found out it's Brittana week and I'm one day behind :( Anyways, I wanted to join the fun so here's the first story under the family/future theme.**

* * *

**Junior Champion**

"Dr. Pierce - Lopez, it's a Saturday…I thought you weren't coming in." Santana brushes past the annoying nurse. She's obviously not in today because she's not wearing any scrubs or gloves or anything a doctor should be wearing if they were in.

"Does it look like I'm on duty Nancy?" She gives the nurse a death glare.

"Uh, no I just didn't expect to see you here today." Nancy gulps and wishes with all her heart to get out of the situation alive. Santana had a reputation around the hospital for being more robot than human except for when she was mad; that seemed to be the only emotion she was capable of within the institution.

"Well, if some of you stupid nurses were on duty and not screwing the attendant's in the on call room, maybe I could get out of your way sooner. I need help okay?" Santana is not one to beg or desperately require assistance from anybody but this situation calls for it.

"What happened Dr. Pierce - Lopez? Are you okay?"

"It's not me…it's my son he…"

* * *

**Three hours ago:**

"Brittany!" Santana shouted out of the driver's window of their SUV. Yes, Dr. Santana Pierce - Lopez gave up her sweet mustang for this all because she had a son and wife who could convince her to do anything. "Coming, Tana just one more picture."

Santana rolled her eyes. There were already about three billion pictures of Marky in his 'Brittany made' bike costume. Santana was happy to get the coolest, most expensive one at the store but Brittany always believed it was good luck to decorate your own gear. She shrugged and let Brittany have her way because it'd always worked for Brittany, like she has five shelves of motor-cross trophies to prove it. Her wife and son had spent a whole afternoon making the coolest uniform ever that totally went with his bicycle and then Brittany had filled about two whole rolls of film with pictures of their son.

"Do I look good mom?" Mark displayed his uniform to her as Brittany threw a toolbox into the back of the SUV.

"I've said this before, you look charming Marky but you won't get to show everyone how cool you look on the bike if we don't get there in time. In the car now." Santana tried to be stern but it was hard to mask the pride she was feeling. Today was her son's first bike competition, one which as a family they had worked hard to practice for.

"We're all set to go." Brittany kissed Santana on the cheek as she pulled out of the driveway. "Team Pierce-Lopez!"

/

Santana insisted on being the one to sign Marky in and get him set up to go while Brittany went to find them the best seats. It was her job to scope out the competition and give Marky the pep talk. There were a lot of 10 year old kids who looked bigger and stronger than Marky but she didn't want her son feel intimidated. Hello, she had been skinny and small all her life but she was still the badass from the wrong side of the tracks.

"Marky," She said as she fastened his blue helmet adorned with thunderbolts onto his head. "We've worked really hard for this day. You might think the other kids are stronger and bigger than you but what matters is you are faster and you are the son of Brittany S. Pierce – Lopez. You're mother is a racing legend, that means you're already the champion by birth rights. You have your mother's long legs and my smart brain, this competition is already in the helmet. Pierce – Lopez on the count of three." Santana put her hand out and so did Marky, the steel already set in his eyes. "On three," he nodded. "One – two – three, PIERCE-LOPEZ!"

Santana had no trouble picking Brittany out from the crowd. Other parents may have had team jerseys but they had that and all the other paraphernalia. She could probably spot Brittany from two miles away with her cap, flags, honker, uniform and banner – all in bright blue and yellow.

"Whew, this is it Brittany…passing on the legacy." Santana tried her best to contain her excitement. It felt like eighteen years ago all over again. She proudly remembered that she had not missed one of Brittany's competitions from when she was 12 to 24. "

"Tana, I'm shaking…that's our son out there, riding with our name on his back. Do you think he'll be okay? Like, will he remember all the tricks I taught him?"

"Of course Brittany, his coach is a national champion. It's not even fair to all the other suckers who are going to eat his dust."

"I know I'm just nervous, it's his first race."

"I'm more worried about dirty play," Santana muttered, "if any of those kids so much as knick my son or cause him to lose balance I'm not holding back on the razors. I came prepared today; you can never be too sure."

"Santana they're ten, there's not going to be dirty play."

"You don't know that Brittany, I swear, not a hair…"

_All the contestants are in place. Please wait for the 'go' before starting or you will automatically be disqualified._

"Oh there he is, number three right? Concentrate Marky, concentrate." Brittany murmured under her breath before the announcing even began. She latched on to Santana's hand for support. She knew that starting was one of the most crucial parts of the race, Marky needed to start off in the lead.

_On your marks, get set, GOOOOOO!_

To the normal eye it would seem that all eight bikers started at the same time but Brittany's trained eye knew that her son had a half second advantage over the others putting him in the lead at the start of the race. "YESSSSSSS, Take that! He did exactly what I told him to do, Santana our son is perfect did you see!"

Santana smiled at Brittany and nodded. The other parents looked at them like they were a bunch of weirdo's for celebrating over nothing. Santana didn't give a fuck though, Brittany had every right to fan-girl over their son's small success – the other parents could stare all they wanted; her son was kicking all their son's asses.

"Britt," Santana hissed, "Did you see that? Number two totally tried to unbike our son on purpose; he's going to make Marky crash. If they both end up in the OR my son is getting treated first."

"Tana, it's alright. Marky is totally doing my inside swerving technique, nobody is going to get past him. He just has to keep it up for two more laps."

As Marky finished the second round it was clear that he was slowly putting distance between the other riders who were still riding in a group.

"God bless you for giving our son long legs," Santana whispered. She might not be cheering and screaming like Brittany but she was having a serious case of inner fan-girling. "He's going to qualify for the regional competition with the best time; I know it…only you could be at 1.14 seconds halfway through the third lap."

_And the final lap! It looks like Mark Pierce-Lopez is still in the lead with no challenger. Lets see if anyone else picks up the pace for the final lap!_

"Come on, you can do it baby…MARKY GO GO!"

"Yeah, KICK ASS SON!" Santana joined Brittany in hollering. The other parents were now on their feet as well, shouting instructions to their children and cheering them on.

"Number seven is gaining on him Santana, there's half a lap left." Brittany squealed and seemed to hold her breath. It was like the worst nightmare for racers, when you think you've won but at the last minute you've lost because you didn't know that fucker was right behind you. "WATCH YOUR BACK MARKY! METEOR APPROACHING, I QUOTE, METEOR APPROACHING!" As Brittany said the words, Marky began to peddle faster. Number seven kicked into gear as well.

_It looks like a close race between three and seven! Only two hundred meters to the finish line!_

"Brittany, there! Tell me you saw that," Santana clenched her teeth as she watched number seven bring his front wheel mighty close to Marky's back wheel. "Dirty officially exists in junior racing Brittany. If my son gets a bruise, I am filing charges."

"He's going to win Santana. The distance to the finish divided by Marky's leg power multiplied by spinning rounds says there's no way in hell our son is losing. My math is never wrong or I didn't graduate from MIT."

_And he's innnnnnnnn….first place goes to Mark Pierce – Lopez but uh-oh, there seems to be trouble on the track._

"I knew it, the sore loser!" Santana dragged Brittany down to the track where a pile of dust and limbs were gathered. "Son of a bitch," Santana stormed past the other boy's mother, "yes I was talking about you. Who raises their son to intentionally hurt other people?"

"Santana, is he okay?" Brittany was kneeling on the ground beside Marky who she had carried out of the chaos.

"This is not over," Santana pointed and hurried to her son's side.

"He's breathing but take off his helmet so he can get more air. There seems to be no damage to his wind pipe, baby I'm going to move your arms and legs to make sure they're not broken." Santana put all her medical knowledge into practice on her son checking his heartbeat and his pulse to make sure there were no irregularities.

"So is he okay Santana?" Brittany looked on worriedly.

"Get some cold water Britt and meet me at the car."

"How are you feeling baby?" Brittany handed Marky a cold cup of orange juice.

"It was awesome mom! I won!"

"I'm so proud of you," Brittany wiped the sweat off his forehead and kissed him.

"Damn it!" Santana said from somewhere behind the back seat, "I knew I should have double checked, where is the first aid kit?"

"Okay, is there something seriously wrong Santana? You're scaring me."

"No, we just need to go to the hospital."

"THE HOSPITAL! SANTANA WHAT IS WRONG WITH OUR SON!"

Santana slammed the back door closed and hopped into the driver's seat, starting the car immediately. A plump man in a too fitting track suit jogged towards them.

"Mrs. Pierce Lopez? Here's your son's trophy, we're really sorry about what happened on the track." Santana grabbed the golden cup and handed it to her son in the back seat.

"Thanks, but we're kind of in a rush here." Santana said as politely as possible. The man was still distressed and was thinking of another apology when Santana put the car into gear and sped off.

* * *

**Now:**

"So that's what happened, and now my son is suffering from five cuts that I can count that could already be infected and growing worms and three bruises which could be internal bleeding. I'm not risking any arms or legs being amputated so would one of you useless people get down there with some simple first aid and check that he's okay!" Three nurses and two interns who have come to the front desk in time of the outrage quickly run to do her bidding.

Santana goes to the schedule board and writes her son's name for two o'clock surgery in the OR. She can't be too careful, it is her son after all.

When she gets back, the two interns' are cleaning Marky's cuts and the other three nurses are holding ice to his bruises. Marky is lying in bed happily cuddling with his trophy and telling all his caretakers how he's won the bike race.

"Are they taking care of him okay?" Santana hugs Brittany's waist.

"Santana, they brought him lemon juice, chocolate milk, and blueberry soda. Is it really necessary for five people to be primping him? I mean, his worst injury is his wobbly tooth falling out."

"This hospital owes me; the least they can do is give my son the best care."

"Hey," Santana nods to one of the interns, "present my son's condition."

"Ye..yes..Dr. Pierce-Lopez," he says with a quivering voice. "Mark Pierce-Lopez, encountered a collision on the bike..er..race..uh track. He sustained minor injuries to the arms and legs and bruising on his hip. Also he lost a tooth which according to your wife..er his mother was already going to fall out. We'll clean his cuts and put gauze on it. The bruises will go away after a few days, he won't have to stay at the hospital."

"Good," Santana smirks. "Did you all know my son just won the junior bicycle tournament and is going to regional's?"

Santana can tell they have heard it several times, but so what if she wants to brag about her awesome son? After all, she is a mother and that's what mothers do apart from making sure their kid survives nasty biker foul play.


End file.
